Darkling
by thisendsintragedy
Summary: There's a new witch coming to Hogwarts, and she's definitely not what everyone is expecting. Aredhel Fefelas is an American Wiccan whose special in every way, and is very attracted to Harry-as well as his best friend and enemy. Harry/OC, Draco/OC, and Ron/OC. Rated M for violence, language, and SMUT.


Darkling

A Harry Potter fanfic

Set during Harry Potter's fifth year of Hogwarts, there is a new student coming to the school of witchcraft and wizardry that is going to take the magical world by storm. Meet Aredhel Fefelas, a Wiccan from the States who is somehow connected to the mystery of Lord Voldemort and may be the key to stopping the Dark Lord once and for all. She is no ordinary witch, and is soon learning that the powers she thought she had are nothing compared to the ones she discovers upon entering the magical school. And then there's not to mention the attraction to Harry Potter—the wizard who is responsible for the defeat of the Dark Lord. Aerie is fascinated and repelled by him—all at the same time—and has no idea what to do with her emotions. And then there's Draco Malfoy and Ronald Weasley, two boys who have also caught her eye. But Draco is Harry's enemy and Ron is his best friend—what's a girl to do?

Rated M for smut, language, and violence.

"AERIE," AUNT AGNES says from across the kitchen table. "There's some letter here for you."

"Really?" I arch my brow in surprise. No one has ever written a letter to me before.

"Yup. Addressed to a 'Miss Aredhel Fefelas' with our address and… it also says 'the kitchen table.'" She shoots me a peculiar look. "Why would someone put that on a letter…? And how would they… oh, never mind. Let's see what it says," she slides the letter over to me.

With trembling fingers, I pick up the envelope. It's made of heavy parchment and the writing is elegant, also in green ink. Holding my breath, I turn the envelope over and see a seal containing a lion, badger, hawk, and snake on the back, surrounding a giant "H." My curiosity is piqued, I tear open the letter.

_"To Miss Aredhel Fefelas,"_ I read aloud, _"We apologize for the delay of your letter, but we are very pleased to have finally found you at last. We invite you to attend Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft & Wizardry, after a very long and very strenuous search to find you. Your gifts are quite unique and we feel, an asset to what our school provides as a learning tool for our students. You will find your school supplies and book list also enclosed in the letter. Term starts September 1__st__, where you will be asked to find your own transportation to Platform 9 ¾ at King's Cross Station, locate in London, Britain. Hope to see you soon. Regards, Minerva McGonnagle, Deputy Headmistress."_

I gaze up at Aunt Agnes, bewildered by the letter's message.

She's staring at me open-mouthed, shock and fear flooding in her eyes.

"Aunt Aggie? What's wrong?"

She pierces me with her icy blue eyes and takes in a deep, trembling breath. "I always knew this day would come," she whispers, her fingers kneading the napkin in her hands. "I always knew they'd find you."

"That _who_ would find me?" I reply.

She quickly shakes her head and gets up from the table, taking her plate over to the sink. "I cannot tell you, child, for there are things that I cannot explain to you. Things you need to hear from _them, _who will give you all the answers you seek."

I shake my head at her answer. "I don't understand. What's going on?"

But instead of getting an answer, I get another shake of her head. "I can't say anymore, Aerie. Just please, finish your breakfast. We have two weeks to get to London and buy your things so you can make that train to Hogwarts. After you're done, I'll need you to pack all of your belongings."

My heart plummets into my stomach. "Wait… are you saying we're going to London?"

She nods.

"When?"

"Tonight. We'll catch a plane out of Philly. From there we'll stop at our layover, and then board another flight to Britain. Hurry up, child. You have too many clothes to pack."

I do as she says and then head up to my room.

My bedroom is my sanctuary, a place I've always felt safe and comfortable in—no matter what life has thrown my way. But today, I feel scared, alone, and uncertain of what the future is going to bring to me. I'm only fifteen after all, and in no way prepared to leave this place behind.

But Aunt Agnes says that there are answers I need to find… but the questions regarding those answers are still a mystery to me. But my life has always been a mystery. Ever since I was a very young girl.

I grew up in what most kids would think to be an abnormal household. Raised by my aunt, I learned at a young age that I have a gift that most children only dream of having. I am a witch, or Wiccan, as I've been taught to call myself. I believe in a Goddess, two Gods, and I celebrate the moon phases, solstices, and equinoxes throughout the year. Magick is the most important element in my life; it's what has made me who I am, but yet it is also what has taken my parents away from me.

I gaze at myself in the mirror, staring at the girl who my Coven claims is the perfect mixture of both my mother and my father. I have my father's olive skin and the shape of his eyes, yet I have my mother's dark, curly hair and her dark brown irises. My nose is long like my father's, but ending in a small, delicate point like my mother's. My jawline is father's, lips are mother's. I'm very small, the Coven always remarked, like my mother was, but athletic and strong like my father. I wish I knew them. I wish I could've been raised by them, but they died when I was a baby. I've always wanted to ask Aunt Agnes, but the subject of losing her brother and sister-in-law really upsets her, so I've always been mindful of that. The only thing I know for sure is that magick was involved in their demise. But whether it was another witch that killed them, or just a spell gone wrong, I've never really known.

With a deep sigh, I turn from my reflection and do as my aunt says. I reach into my closet and pull out a hefty travel bag and start packing clothes into it.

From the corner of my eye, I can see the Hogwarts letter sitting on my dresser, the bright parchment shining like a beacon of mystery in my peripheral. I may want to find answers, but I don't like how I have to go about getting them. Even so, I continue to pack, pausing to look at the letter every so often, as if I expect it to turn into a teleprompter and flash the movie of my mysterious life before my eyes. But it never does. It just lays there, dormant and inviting, yet taunting and mocking all at the same time.

TWO DAYS LATER, I am settling into a hotel room Aunt Agnes has rented for us. I'm rereading my letter for what seems the millionth time, gazing at the supplies I'm asked to acquire for this term.

"Cauldrons, dragon scales… and an owl? What the hell would they want me to get an owl for? They better not be into animal sacrifices 'cause I am so _not _about that."

Aunt Agnes laughs. It's the first time I've heard her laugh in days. "No, Aerie, no sacrifices. The owls are for delivering mail to and from people. They want you to get one so you can keep in touch with me throughout the school year."

"Get the hell out," I claim, making her giggle again.

"There's so much you don't know, but don't worry—you'll find your answers soon enough. Now what else does that letter say you have to have?"

I AM STANDING in front of the most disgusting looking bar—er, _pub_—I've ever seen.

"The Leaky Cauldron? What the hell? This place looks like a friggin' dump."

"You hush your mouth, Aredhel. This place is famous. Your parents stayed here once, you know."

I look at her and raise my eyebrows. "Here? They stayed _here?_ You've got to be kidding."

She laughs and shakes her blonde head. "Not at all, darling. Now come on. We have to pass through here to get to Diagon Alley."

Diagon Alley, I've learned, is where I have to go to get my school supplies. Back in America, occult shops are a common occurrence and they get frequented often by avid practitioners and even the casual passerby. Everyone wants some kind of magick in their life, so I've never felt uncomfortable going in and buying a new Book of Shadows or athames for my assorted rituals. But the fact that this alley is _hidden_ and I have to go through a dingy little pub to go to it is a little unsettling. What the hell are they going to teach me at this school? Certainly not the magick I'm used to, that's for damn sure.

"Come on," Aunt Agnes takes me by the elbow and steers me over to the pub's entrance. "There's a man in here we're meeting whose going to help us with getting your supplies. Just don't be alarmed when you see him."

"Why?" I arch a brow. "Is he disfigured or something?"

Aunt Agnes chews this over in her mind for a minute, as if trying to find the best way to tell me. "Not exactly," she finally says. "It's just that—well—he's a giant."

"A _what?_" I hiss at her. A fucking _giant_ is going to help me navigate my way through this secret place? Holy hell, Batman.

Aunt Agnes opens the pub door and shoves me inside. As soon as I'm through the threshold, I can immediately spot out the man she's talking about.

"Oh, 'lo there, Agnes! Bin a while, ain't it? Ah, an' this must be Ar'del. Ye likin' London so far, Ar'del?"

It takes me a moment to register that he's talking to _me._ His accent slash slang thing he has going on completely makes him mispronounce my name, but it's okay. This man is incredibly tall, maybe twelve feet, with long shaggy black hair and an equally shaggy and long black beard. He's dressed head to toe in moleskin, looking like some sort of rugged eskimo, but he has small, little black beetle-like eyes that are twinkling with such warmth and friendliness that I cannot help but smile at him. _He's a gentle giant,_ I catch myself thinking, and offer my hand for him to shake.

"Hello there! I'm really excited for this new adventure, sir. You can call me Aerie, by the way. I like that name better."

The giant ignores my hand, and instead lifts me up in a bone-crushing hug. My face is plastered into his willowy, scratch beard, and my lungs feel like they're about to collapse.

"Ooomph!" I groan.

"Oh, Aerie!" he suddenly howls, clutching me tightly to his chest. "Bin waitin' so long ter see ye! Ye 'ave no idea how wonderful it is ter finally meet Robbie and Kat's little girl!" Much to my relief, he releases me, and I land unsteadily on my feet. I watch as he takes out a handkerchief that's as big as a beach towel and mops the tears from his eyes with it. "Ye look jus' like 'em. Always knew they'd 'ave a pretty girl. Ye can call me Hagrid, by the way. I'm the grounds' keeper at Hogwarts. Dumbledore asked me ter get ye himself. Great man, Dumbledore. Asked me ter do the same with Harry Potter. Ah, jus' ye wait, Aerie. I can' wait fer ye to meet Harry!"

"Whose Harry Potter?" I ask, bewildered. This dude sounds like a big deal.

"Only one of the most famous wizards of our time!" Hagrid bellows, causing some of the bar patrons to stop and stare.

_"Harry Potter?"_ I can hear them whispering to each other.

_"Can't believe he's still at Hogwarts. After all he's seen!"_

_ "He'll get the Dark Lord again, I reckon. Just you wait. Harry is unstoppable!" _

Hagrid opens his mouth and starts to say something when my aunt cuts him off.

"Now's not the time for all that," she says, but her smile takes the edge off her words. "We must get Aerie her supplies, and then maybe we can stop for a bite to eat?"

"Sure thing!" Hagrid replies, his face breaking into an ear-splitting grin. "I know jus' the place ter take ye two when we're done. But firs' off, Gringotts!"

"Gringotts?" I repeat, the bewilderment creeping over me once again. "What's that? Is that where I'm going to get a wand?"

"A wand?" Hagrid laughs, causing the window behind him to shake. "Gallopin' gargoyles, Aerie! This is just like wit' Harry all over again! C'mon, ye two. Let's get ter Diagon Alley."

MY ARMS ARE aching from carrying around my spellbooks and my supplies, but it's nothing compared to the pain in my face. I cannot remember the last time I've smiled or laughed this much—my aunt included.

Hagrid led us first to Gringotts, which is their wizard's bank. I was shocked to learn that my parents had an account there, and even more shocked when I saw all the gold and silver they left for me. The entire vault was lined with money—more money I've ever dreamed of having. Hagrid encouraged me to take as much as I want, assuring me that I wouldn't put a dent in the finances if I took a bag full of each type of coin. So I left with a three sacks of Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts, feeling elated that I had money to spend. Of course my aunt and I were the furthest thing from poor—magick does have its bonuses, as well as my aunt's job as a receptionist in a prestigious law firm—but we weren't ones to splurge too much on things that weren't magickally important.

But here I am, carrying brand new copies of all my school books, brand new black robes, and just brand new of everything I needed on the supplies list. When walking into one strange looking animal shop, I caught Hagrid gazing longingly at one of the brown owls in the cages, clicking his tongue playfully at it. The bird, to my surprise, seemed to like Hagrid a lot, for he made clicking noises with his beak right back.

"Wow," I say as I come up beside Hagrid. "He's the biggest owl in the whole shop! And so pretty, too!"

"Yeah," Hagrid replies, still cooing at the bird. "Wish I could 'ave one. Fang, my dog, ain't too keen on birds but, I think he'd like this one. 'Cause he's big an' actually playful. They'd get 'long good."

"Well, I still have to get an owl, too! Help me pick one out, Hagrid."

"Why don' I surprise ye wit' one? I did that fer Harry, ye know. Bought it fer him as a birthday present. When's yer, birthday, Aerie?"

"Oh, not until Yule. So don't worry about that! Let me buy my owl, but you pick him out, okay?"

Hagrid gave me a smile and agreed to let me do just that. As soon as he was out of sight though, I grabbed a shopkeeper and asked him to retrieve the large brown owl for me. But when I asked the attendant to do that, he gave me a wide-eyed, petrified stare.

"But miss, this owl is not suitable for you. It is quite mean, and very hostile. Wouldn't you prefer a bird of smaller size? Perhaps even a nice white one, or even a cat?"

"No sir," I reply with a sweet smile. "I want that one, right here. He's perfect in every way."

After the grumbling shopkeeper retrieved Hagrid's owl and set him up in a cage for me, I saw Hagrid emerging from the back with another attendant and a beautiful, snowy eagle owl in a cage.

"Surprise!" I grin up at him. "I got the owl for you!"

Hagrid's little black eyes widen in surprise. "Oh Aerie! Ye shouldn' 'ave! But… but how am I gonna repay ye? Ye won't let me get yer's fer ye!"

"Just be my friend, Hagrid. Be a friendly face I can turn to when I need someone at Hogwarts. I'll be all alone there without my aunt or my usual magick to comfort me. Just do that and consider us even."

Hagrid's face breaks out into another smile. He looks on the verge of tears, so I quickly take my owl from him and give the shopkeeper the money for it. To my surprise, the owl Hagrid picked out for me is a boy, and his is a girl.

"Oh Hagrid, look! They're friends already!" I exclaim happily to him as my owl—Logan—nips playfully at Penelope's beak.

"Yer so much like yer parents," Hagrid admonishes, clapping me on the shoulder so hard that I nearly fall on my face.

I want to ask him then about my parents, but I think it best not to. Their death it seems, was a tragedy to everyone who knew them, and I don't want to spoil the happiness of this day by bringing up such a sore subject.

We then meet up with Aunt Agnes in a restaurant around the corner. It's a very casual place, and I find my stomach is rumbling like thunder with hunger. I order a medium-rare cheeseburger with everything on it and even ask for bacon and cheese on my fries, happily wolfing down my food like I've never eaten before. Hagrid watches me consume my meal, astonished I can fit so much in my stomach for being such a small girl. My aunt however, delicately pecks at the soup and salad she ordered and doesn't even bat an eyelash when I pile fries onto my burger and smush them into the sandwich before taking giant-size (no pun intended) bites into my mouth.

"How tall are ye anyway, Aerie?" Hagrid asks.

"I'm four foot, ten inches," I reply through a mouthful of burger. "Legally I'm a midget back home."

"Don't talk with your mouth full, young lady," Aunt Agnes playfully scolds me.

"Oh, yes ma'am. Anyway, after this can we _please_ go get my wand? I've been dying for that all day. In Wicca, we use wands, but it's nothing like what I think I'll be using it for at Hogwarts. It's usually for when we're Drawing a Circle and things like that, but we can't make things _happen_ with one."

"What can ye do, Aerie? Do ye 'ave any special talents or abilities?"

"Mr. Hagrid," Aunt Agnes cuts in, pointing her fork at me. "That child is the most gifted young witch our Coven has ever seen. The abilities she carries are rare and unheard of, even to us. She'll be quite a… _sensation_ to her new school."

I can't help but smile proudly in spite of myself. I've always had the Coven tell me I'm special, but I've never allowed it to get to my head, really. I don't like to brag or boast and I don't like showoffs, but in this moment I've never felt the need to show someone a taste of what I can do so badly before.

"Aunt Aggie, can I show Hagrid something? Just something small, please?"

My aunt sighs and brushes a stray strand of blonde hair from her eyes. "You may, but it better be small. These people are used to magick, Aerie, but not the kind we can do. You don't want to frighten anyone."

"Of course," I nod at her. "I just want him to see my telekinesis."

"Yer wha'?" Hagrid asks, but all too soon he's distracted by his plate of rare steak hovering in the air. "Merlin's beard! Wha' in the—!"

"Don't move or speak, Hagrid," I advise him in a soft voice. "Just watch."

Keeping close focus on the plate, I tell it with my mind to rise higher and higher into the air, so it's completely level with Hagrid's mouth. Then, just for fun, I telepathically connect with the silver element of his fork and ask it to rise into the air as well. It complies happily, floating right above Hagrid's plate before spearing a piece of steak Hagrid cut off and moving toward his mouth.

"Go on," I smile encouragingly at Hagrid, "take your bite."

Hagrid, too stunned to do anything else, does what I ask. As he chews his piece, I set both the plate and the fork down gently, thanking them for helping me in my demonstration. A warm buzz of acknowledgement sends a tingle through my brain, letting me know that the elements of the utensils are pleased with helping me with my magick. Then a small cloud of glittery dust fills the air and falls gracefully onto my head.

I laugh and shake out the pixie dust, covering my plate in a glittery cloud, but I don't mind. The look on Hagrid's face is worth any amount of glitter on my burger.

"Jumpin' jack-o-lanterns! That was the best bit o' magic I've ever seen! How do ye do it, Aerie? Ye don't even have ter use a wand!"

"Is _that_ what wands are for?" I giggle. "Wow, what a waste of time! But I'll still get one. I think it'll be good to be more well-rounded in magick—no matter how I was brought up. The Goddess won't be mad, so I'm definitely excited for when we pick one out."

"Aerie is very special, Hagrid," Aunt Agnes says suddenly, causing both Hagrid and I to shoot puzzled glances toward her. Her face is very serious and there's a fire in her eyes that I've never seen before. "Aerie is very special," she repeats, "and she needs all the protection she can get. But you cannot tell the other students about her. You cannot tell anyone about her that doesn't need to know.

"Aerie is a rarity, like I said. Our Coven has acted more like a family to her than a schooling system in Wicca. She's a natural witch, and very smart and kind-hearted, like her mother was. Please watch over my niece. She's all I have left."

Suddenly I am overtaken by a strong urge to hug Aunt Agnes. Because what she said is true: I am all she has left, and that goes the same way for me. Up until now, it was just the two of us. Best friends and fellow witches, living in harmony under the same roof and loving one another like we were sisters rather than aunt and niece. I seize her hand in both of mine and bring it up to my lips where I plant a soft kiss.

"I love you, Aunt Aggie," I tell her as tears mist my eyes. "I promise I'll be careful. Don't you worry. I'll send Logan with letters as much as I can, and I'll even try to get through to you with a scrying mirror too—if I have a secure place to perform the ritual. Please don't cry, Aunt Aggie. I won't do anything stupid."

"It's not you I'm worried about, Aerie," she tells me as she wipes her eyes. "It's the others. What they'd do if they found out."

"Don't ye worry none," Hagrid then interjects, clasping his large hand around mine and my aunt's. "Besides meself an' Professor Dumbledore, there are people at that school who can look after Aerie. I mentioned Harry Potter before, who is a wizard that's had a hard time growin' up like Aerie did. He'll make sure she's safe. He'll never let anythin' happen to her."

That name again. Harry Potter.

Suddenly I am overwhelmed with a burning desire to bombard Hagrid with questions about this dude, as I remember what those people in the Leaky Cauldron said, when Hagrid pulls out a golden pocket watch from his coat and gasps aloud in surprise.

"Oh blimey, look at the time! Musta bin here fer quite some time. Here, this lunch was on me. Leave it on the counter an' go get yer stuff ready. I'll tip the waitress."

"No Hagrid, allow me to do that," I pull out six galleons and set them on the table. "Is that a good tip? I don't know."

"'Tis a fine tip, Aerie! Are ye sure ye wanna tip that _much_ though? Ye'll be makin' someone very happy, I'll tell ye that much."

"Well of course I wanna make someone happy! That's how we tip in America, anyway. Well, at least, I do."

Aunt Agnes shoots me a tender smile. "Aerie has always been very generous, Hagrid," she tells our new friend in a fond voice. "That is another reason why you must look after her. Her heart is so big and her intentions so good that she almost forgets the ugly, dark side that people hide deep inside them."

OLLIVANDER'S WAND SHOP gives me an eerie chill as I gaze up at it. I can feel the magick in there, pulsating and growing and moving, like some sort of electrical amoeba. I want to run in, bask in the wonderfulness of its energy, but I remain rooted in place instead. For the life of me, I cannot move, cannot even breathe. There is something about that place, something that I cannot figure out, that has me paralyzed on the spot.

It feels like I'm staring Fate right in the face.

"Well, c'mon Aerie," Hagrid pushes me forward, launching me into motion against my wishes. "Yer wand is the most important thing in magic. And Ollivander is the best man ter get yer wand from."

I glance back at my aunt, who hasn't moved to join us at all.

"Aunt Aggie?" I call to her. "Aren't you going to come in?"

"Can you feel it, Aerie?" she whispers, locking her gaze with mine. "Can you feel the magick in there?"

_So she feels it too,_ I muse to myself. I nod at her though, hoping to ease her nerves. She returns my nod with a small smile and starts walking with us up to the shop. Hagrid eases the shop door open with great care—even for a giant such as himself—and I am greeted by the sight of a dim shop that is filled with shelves stocked of small boxes. I guess that's where the wands are kept. But the shopkeeper, so far, is nowhere in sight.

I look up to Hagrid and whisper, "Is the shop closed?"

"Nah," Hagrid replies, shaking his massive head. "Mr. Ollivander is 'round here sumwhere. Migh' be in the back gettin' summat."

"No, Mr. Hagrid, I am right here."

I jump at the sound of his soft, wispy voice and nearly scream aloud. But the sight of the old, frail looking man who suddenly popped up behind the counter, stops me from doing so. He's very old, with white hair and a pleasant, round face. But his piercing eyes… those icy orbs stab me from all the way across the shop. I stay rooted in place, unsure of what else to do.

"Ah, and this must be Miss Fefelas and her aunt, Agnes Fefelas. Come, come. Let me have a look at you both."

Hagrid nudges me forward and I nearly fall face-first on the floor but Aunt Agnes is there to hold my arm in support. We grip each other's hands firmly and walk up to the counter to where Mr. Ollivander stands.

"Ah, my dear Aredhel. You look so much like your parents. They were both quite handsome, but you my dear, _you_ are the epitome of physical perfection. And Agnes," Mr. Ollivander turns his icy stare to my aunt and says, "My word, you look as though you haven't aged a day since your brother's funeral! The pictures the _Daily Prophet_ took certainly do not do your beauty justice, however. I never thought I'd see you on this side of the Atlantic, though."

"My niece finally got accepted to Hogwarts, Mr. Ollivander," Aunt Agnes returns in a monotone voice. "Of course I'd come here to accompany her."

Mr. Ollivander nods his head. "Of course. Now, I do believe we have to find a wand here for you, Miss Fefelas. Do tell me, which arm is your wand arm?"

"Er, my left arm, sir."

"Left?" Mr. Ollivander arches a brow. "How curious. Most witches and wizards are right-handed. No matter. Tape!"

Out of nowhere comes a small measuring tape that starts taking my measurements without Mr. Ollivander having to hold it. It measures me from finger to wrist, wrist to elbow, elbow to knee, and keeps going as the shopkeeper looks through his stock.

I'm getting irritated by this stupid little thing. It's even measuring the space between my eyes, for Christ's sake. I'm about to knock it away from my face when Mr. Ollivander calls for it to cease. The tape measure stops at once and flies back over to its spot on the counter. Mr. Ollivander then places several boxes next to it and urges me to come over.

"Let's try this one, my dear," he tells me as he puts the wand in my hand. "Eleven inches. Oak. Very pliable. Give it a wave and let's see what happens."

I do as I'm told, but automatically have the wand snatched out of my hand.

"What the heck?" I cry, giving the old man a look.

"It wasn't the right one. Trust me, you'll know when you've found it. It is after all, the wand that chooses the witch, and not the other way around as you may presume. Here you go, Miss Fefelas. Try this one."

I try, and I try, and I try.

The wands Mr. Ollivander has picked out are all discarded, and the number keeps adding up. I don't know what the hell I'm looking for, but Mr. Ollivander certainly knows what he's doing. I'm getting so tired of this; my wrist is starting to hurt from flicking the wands and my fingers are starting to cramp up. I decide that if the next one isn't for me, I'm simply going to walk out of the shop and chance my schooling at Hogwarts wandless. But then Mr. Ollivander reaches for a box on a very high shelf and gives a shudder of surprise.

"Oh yes, oh yes. Why didn't I think of it before?" he mutters to himself.

"Think of what, sir?" I implore him, watching as he climbs down an incredibly small ladder.

"Try this, Miss Fefelas," he opens the box and hands the wand to me.

I examine the wand before I take it from him, hoping that it's the one for me. It's ten and a half inches long, made of a very pale holly wood. The polish is shiny, almost translucent, and I am filled with an odd, incredible warmth that none of the previous wands have given me. Very slowly, as if I'm afraid my touch will break it, I take the wand from Mr. Ollivander and grasp it in my hand.

And then something miraculous happens; a small stream of glittery light emerges from the tip of the wand and casts a jet of rainbow colors around the room. I cry out with glee and keep waving the wand around, enjoying the prisms of light.

Mr. Ollivander, Hagrid, and my aunt all clap their hands in excitement.

"Oh bravo!" the shopkeeper cries, reaching forward to take the wand from me. He gives me an odd look as he packs it up and begins to mutter something under his breath. "How odd. How very, very odd. Curious, though. Very curious."

"Excuse me, sir?" I ask. "What exactly is odd and curious?"

He pierces me with those eyes again, and for a moment I regret asking the question. "Miss Fefelas, do you remember what I said about the wand choosing the witch?"

I nod, waiting for him to continue.

He takes a deep breath. "Miss Fefelas, every wand that is made here is filled with some sort of magical element, such as the feather of a phoenix or the heartstring of a dragon. Can you guess what is inside _your_ wand, my dear?"

I shake my head no, having no idea what'd be inside it.

"The hair of a unicorn, my dear child."

My aunt lets out the breath that I am holding. Hagrid grunts, obviously not understanding the significance.

Mr. Ollivander continues his explanation. "You are also born on Yule, is that correct? And holly, is that not the wood of which your wand is crafted from? Oh Miss Fefelas, I believe that like Mr. Harry Potter, we will be seeing great things from you. Very, very great things."

That name again. Harry Potter.

"Sir," I say when I finally find my voice. "I've been hearing that boy's name being mentioned all day. Who is he, if I may ask? Is he some sort of great Professor at Hogwarts or something?"

"Why no, my dear. Mr. Potter is a student, much like yourself. You will be in the same year as him, at Hogwarts. I can remember what is was like giving him his wand all those years ago. Hagrid here brought him to me, and perhaps he can tell you of that experience himself if he so chooses. But the rest of Harry Potter must remain a mystery to you until you've met the boy yourself. I wager you two will get along quite well at Hogwarts. Now that will be seventeen galleons, please."

I pay for my wand, and then leave the shop completely bewildered. My aunt's expression mirrors my own. I can feel the anxiety coursing through her, so I take her hand in mine and press closely to her as we make our way to our last stop: a broomstick shop.

I'm more than excited at this. In Wicca, broomsticks are used as symbols much like wands are. They cannot really make us fly, but instead are used to as decorations and as ways of telling if there will be an unexpected visitor arriving at your home. I've always dreamed of flying on one, and cannot believe that my chance is soon to come. The shop comes into view and all my unease instantly evaporates. Hagrid pulls open the shop door and ushers us in, telling me that he can't wait to see which broom I pick out. I can't either, I tell him. And suddenly, my mind is emptied out, except for images of me flying on a broomstick, soaring high above the clouds. All my troubles and worries instantly vanish away.

HOURS LATER IN our hotel room, I am once again going over all the things I picked up in Diagon Alley. But the one thing I simply cannot let go of is my wand.

My broomstick is still in its packaging—due to my aunt's wishes. She doesn't want me to get any bright ideas of flying it around without knowing how to fly yet. Apparently I will be taught how to fly at school, but I'm more than eager to try out my new Firebolt. Apparently, it's the best broom that's out on the market, and I cannot believe the fortune it cost me. Hagrid made us stop back at Gringotts to refill my bags, which I happily obliged to, and then bought him an ice cream at a stand near the exit of Diagon Alley.

It was hard to say goodbye to him, but he assured me he'd be seeing me soon. My face is still itching from when his beard scratched me as he gave me a peck on the head. For a giant, he's really rather harmless. And here I thought giants were foul, mean creatures that liked to eat people.

"Aunt Aggie?" I call over to my aunt.

"Yes dear?"

"I don't think I want you to go, Aunt Aggie. I can't be all the way across the ocean without you. I'm… I'm not going to feel right."

"Oh Aerie," she comes over to my bed and gives me a big hug. "I'll see how long I can stick around, okay? You know the firm needs me, and I still need to make money. I can't just live here in this hotel forever you know."

"I know," I sigh. "But I wish you could."

"Don't worry about a thing, sweetheart. You'll be great at Hogwarts. I just know it."

THE HOGWARTS EXPRESS is nothing like I thought it would be.

The black and red steam engine is massive and towers high above me. I crane my neck to take in the full view, but it's incredibly hard to, especially since my brain is still seeing stars from going through the portal from the platform. A walk-through wall? How fucking cool!

"Okay Aerie," Aunt Agnes's voice pulls me from my observations. "We have to drop off your luggage over there, and then you have to board the train. It's leaving in five minutes."

I nod and together we deposit my luggage to the conductor. I let him have everything but a carry-on bag. He gives me an odd look when he sees it, but doesn't ask for it to be included with the rest of my luggage. I'm thankful, because the contents of this bag are what I'll need to keep myself calm on this journey.

My aunt walks me over to a side door of the train and gives me a big hug.

"I love you so much, Aredhel," she breathes in my ear. "You'll be fine, honey. No need to worry."

"But I still don't understand," I tell her. "Why me? Why do I have to go here? How are my parents connected with all this?"

Her blue eyes hold mine for a second, and suddenly I am reminded of the waves of a calm ocean. She's using her own form of telekinesis on me, tapping into my emotions and soothing them so I can keep a cool head through this. "All of your questions will be answered, sweetheart. Now get on that train! Have fun, and don't forget to make friends and write when you can!"

I shoot her a smile and a wave before doing as she says and climbing onto the Hogwarts Express.

The train are packed with other kids; many appear younger than me and are all excited about going to Hogwarts. I wonder if it's anyone first time going too, but I don't stop to ask. I focus more on finding an empty compartment and making sure no one touches my bag.

At the end of the trolley is where I finally find an empty compartment. I throw my bag on the seat and slide the door closed behind me, immediately slumping into the plushness of the cushion. I close my eyes, calling my center to me. Breathing slowly in, then quickly out. Slowly in, then quickly out. I feel a warmth stir within me, and I can feel that the Goddess is smiling, holding me in her embrace.

All of a sudden the door slides back open. I sit up and let out a yelp of surprise.

Standing in the doorway is the most beautiful boy I've ever seen. His jade green eyes meet mine, and his pink lips curve into a shy smile.

"Hello," he greets. "Mind if I sit with you?"

OKAY THAT'S IT! So this is my first Harry Potter fic, and I hope it goes well! Sorry the chapter was so long! R & R, please let me know what you think of it!


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